


I swear I just found everything I need

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Quarantine 2020 [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Baseball Kink, Blow Jobs, COVID-19, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, POV David Rose, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Rimming, Seriously guys the plot is dental floss on the wind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23823565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: “Patrick?” he asks carefully.“Yes, David?” Patrick’s face is a study in nonchalance as he rubs the shampoo through his hair.“Why is there a bottle of lube in the shower?”Patrick has a full-blown smirk now. “Congratulations, David. You’ve found the first part of your treasure hunt.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Quarantine 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716373
Comments: 34
Kudos: 225





	I swear I just found everything I need

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote ~3000 words of quarantine porn a couple of days ago, and it was supposed to be a one-shot. Except that during the editing process I had this sudden mental image of Patrick hiding lube all over the house and not telling David where it is, and so I wrote it in and... well, then I needed that treasure hunt. There is the barest whisper of plot here, y'all.
> 
> You don't need to read the other piece to make sense of this one, but you should anyway ;) This is an interlude, really, as the first one starts before lockdown and then skips forward several weeks into it.
> 
> Title is from Nine Inch Nails. (I actually used this as a chapter title for a fic in a totally different fandom, like ten years ago, with a COMPLETELY different tone to this one. Kinda fun using it again in a much more cheerful context!)

**_Day 3_ **

Lockdown is going well, so far. David loves not having to get up to open the store and finds himself sleeping late, feeling surprisingly relaxed for a germaphobe in the middle of a pandemic. Patrick’s side of the bed is cold, though, and David grumbles in annoyance.

Almost as if summoned, he hears the front door open and close, and soon Patrick is in the doorway. He’s in his running gear, beads of sweat down the side of his face and his shirt sticking slightly under his collarbone. 

“Mm, that’s a nice sight to wake up to,” David grins. He’s making absolutely no secret of looking his husband up and down, dragging his tongue along his lower lip as he does so. Patrick’s eyes darken and David feels it, heat curling low in the pit of his belly. 

“I need a shower, I’m disgusting,” Patrick replies, and David huffs, flopping back against the pillow. Patrick walks around the bed, into the bathroom — and leaves the door open. David’s not an idiot. He recognises an invitation when he sees one and he pulls the blankets off, hissing at the slight chill, and follows Patrick into the bathroom.

The shower is already running when David walks in, mirror fogging up and preventing him from seeing his own reflection. Patrick is already mostly naked, tugging off his underwear and socks and stepping into the shower before David’s even gotten his own top over his head. He quickly finishes undressing and follows him in, the spray only really hitting his hands and feet as Patrick stands under the shower head, eyes closed and head tipped back.

“Can you pass me the shampoo?” Patrick asks as David steps in. He doesn’t open his eyes and his mouth is perfectly straight, but there’s a laugh in his voice that David can’t quite figure out. He reaches past Patrick to the shower caddy, picking up the shampoo with its familiar Rose Apothecary label, and hands it over. He doesn’t know why he even glances back at the caddy, but when he does, he freezes.

“Patrick?” he asks carefully.

“Yes, David?” Patrick’s face is a study in nonchalance as he rubs the shampoo through his hair.

“Why is there a bottle of lube in the shower?”

Patrick has a full-blown smirk now. “Congratulations, David. You’ve found the first part of your treasure hunt.”

“Excuse me? What treasure hunt is this?” But he does remember, suddenly. Just before lockdown started Patrick bought an industrial-sized box of lube, and made David stand in the middle of the living room with his eyes squeezed shut while Patrick hid the bottles all over the house. “What’s my prize for finding one?”

Patrick smirks up at him. “Pretty sure if you find one, you get to decide how we use it,” he murmurs, and then he’s pressed up against David, kissing him hungrily.

David hums against his lips. “Well, if it’s my choice… I’m going to finish my shower.”

Patrick blinks. “What?”

“I’m going to finish my shower,” he repeats, “and then I’m going to do my skincare routine, because that’s very important.”

“Okay…” Patrick says carefully. 

“And while I’m doing that,” he continues, pressing a kiss behind Patrick’s ear and tasting shampoo, “you’re going to lie on the bed, and you’re going to finger yourself open for me. Slowly. And you’re not going to touch your cock. You’re going to wait for me, and you’re going to be ready for me when I’m done.”

Patrick groans, and his knees buckle slightly.  _ “Yes,” _ he hisses, and he’s rinsing shampoo out of his hair in record time before jumping out of the shower and through to the bedroom.

“And don’t you dare drip on the sheets!” David calls after him. Patrick’s hand creeps back into the room, middle finger extended, before it grabs a towel.

David desperately wants to follow him  _ right now,  _ but the thought of Patrick in there, opening himself up, waiting for David as he goes through his normal routine, is incredibly fucking hot. So David makes sure to rinse out his shampoo completely before adding the conditioner, and lets it sit for the full two minutes before he washes that out too.

He turns off the shower and dries himself off slowly, a frisson of pleasure running through him when the towel brushes over his cock. He is stupidly hard, and he does his best to ignore it as he moves over to the sink. Through the door, he can hear Patrick panting and oh,  _ God. _ He’s never been more tempted to skip some of the nine steps in his entire life. He doesn’t though, even as the pants and whimpers and gasps from next door get louder. Patrick is a filthy tease, and he knows exactly what he’s doing to David. 

Steps eight and nine might be… slightly haphazard, but it will have to do. He tosses the towel that was wrapped around his waist somewhat carelessly in the hamper before heading through to the bedroom.

Patrick’s spread out on their bed, and he’s fucking  _ obscene. _ His eyes are closed and he’s got one leg tucked up and three fingers buried deep in his ass, and his cock is incredibly hard, leaking precome against his stomach. David groans, and a smile spreads across Patrick’s face, but he doesn’t open his eyes.

“Getting kind of lonely on this bed, David.”

“Mmm, but you’re putting on such a nice show for me,” David replies, but he’s already crossing the room and crawling onto the bed. He presses a kiss to Patrick’s jaw, and another to his shoulder, as he fumbles with the bottle of lube and slicks himself up, slowly and carefully because just the sight of Patrick like this is enough to make him come undone. He takes Patrick’s wrist in his hand, moving it away from his ass and up above his head. He keeps it there a moment, pinning one wrist down, and Patrick immediately brings the other up to join it.

“That’s it, honey,” David murmurs, and he manoeuvres so that both Patrick’s wrists are under one hand. With the other he hikes up the leg of Patrick’s that isn’t already bent and slides into him in one smooth stroke, sucking a bruise into Patrick’s collarbone as he does so. Patrick whimpers, and all the half-formed ideas of fucking into him nice and slow fly out of David’s head. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in. The pace he sets is relentless and Patrick’s snapping his hips up to meet him stroke for stroke. He can feel Patrick flexing his hands underneath his, and he knows Patrick is desperate to touch himself.

“There— fuck, fuck, David, right there, holy shit,  _ yes—”  _ Patrick pants, and David finally takes pity on him, moving his hand off Patrick’s wrists. One of Patrick’s hands flies down to his cock immediately and he’s tugging himself desperately in time with David’s thrusts. The other is sliding up into David’s hair, tugging the way David likes it.

“Fuck, holy fuck David, I’m gonna—” and then Patrick is coming with a shout, shooting so far up his own chest David is able to reach down and lick some of it from around Patrick’s nipple. Patrick stares up at him, eyes a little glassy, then he brings both hands to David’s face, pulling him down and kissing him obscenely, chasing the taste of himself. It’s too much for David and he comes hard, almost without warning, hips snapping forward as he explodes.

They lie there for a minute, breathing hard as David presses little kisses into Patrick’s skin, licking around the truly impressive hickey he’s left there. Once he feels himself starting to soften, he carefully eases out and collapses on the bed next to Patrick, face down, one hand sprawled across Patrick’s hips.

“How many pieces are there to this treasure hunt, exactly?” David asks, once his breathing is back under control.

“Um,” Patrick starts, and David glances over at him. His face is a little flushed. “Two… dozen?”

“Two  _ dozen? _ You bought  _ twenty-four bottles  _ of lube?”

“It was a good deal! We might be in quarantine a while! We don’t know!”

David is stifling a laugh. “And is this treasure hunt going to result in us having two dozen  _ open _ bottles of lube in the house?”

“I… did not actually think about that,” Patrick admits. “I’m assuming that is not correct?”

David huffs. He should be annoyed, really, but his gorgeous husband is basically saying he wants to fuck David at  _ least _ two dozen times in the next few weeks, so it’s very difficult to be. “In these very traumatic and trying times, who really knows what’s correct anymore?” He muses, and Patrick tangles their fingers together.

“Of course, that will only happen if you actually find them all,” he points out, and David glares. He knows a challenge when he hears one, and he is definitely not going to let Patrick outwit him.

“Oh, I’ll find them all,” he says. 

“Of course you will, baby,” Patrick coos, pressing a kiss to David’s cheek. David doesn’t appreciate quite how hard he laughs as he does.

* * *

**_Day 5_ **

Patrick has decided to teach David how to cook.

And it’s not that David doesn’t  _ want _ to learn. He gets the feeling that he’d actually quite enjoy it, if he could figure it out. However, he’s pretty sure he’s still somewhat traumatised from his mother ‘teaching’ him to just  _ fold in the cheese, David _ and he says as much.

Patrick smiles. “Last time I checked, David, I’m not your mother. God love her, but I think I have more patience than that.”

“That’s a very low bar to try and meet,” David mutters, but he hauls himself off the couch anyway and allows himself to be ferried into the kitchen. And blinks.

The countertops are  _ covered _ in food. All kinds of food. Spices, condiments, vegetables — and yes, cheese.

“Um—”

Patrick presses a kiss into his shoulder. “We’re going to start with the basics, and work our way up. I’ll talk you through it. And if you don’t understand something, I will use  _ different words _ to try and explain it better. And if you don’t have fun, we’ll stop. I just thought it might be a nice thing for us to do together.”

“So, basically, exactly the same method I used to lead you through the joys of sex with men.”

Patrick laughs. “I learned from the best.”

Surprisingly, it’s actually a lot of fun. Patrick clears the cooking lesson bar set by Moira Rose with feet to spare, and he never once makes David feel stupid if he doesn’t understand his instructions the first time. Patrick is patient, and sweet, and if David starts fucking something up Patrick guides him in fixing it without taking everything over. Also, David can totally fold in cheese now. He can fold in cheese like a  _ professional. _

Hours later, the kitchen is a mess and David’s exhausted, but they’ve made several different sauces and marinades and the smell is making David’s mouth water. While he’s washing his hands, Patrick starts moving the containers David has carefully filled into the freezer.

“We’re not eating any of this now?” he asks, horrified.

Patrick glances at him. “Not now, no,” he confirms. “Too late to start marinating meat now, but this will get us through most of the week. You did so well, I’m so proud of you,” and he kisses David, reaching past him for the last sauce as he does so.

Those words make David’s toes curl and he hauls Patrick back in for a deeper kiss. Patrick tucks one hand around David’s waist, holding him close, but the other is still awkwardly holding the Tupperware, so David reluctantly lets him go.

“Right, well, if we’re not eating any of this then I  _ definitely _ need snacks, so,” he says, heading for the cupboard. He can hear Patrick stacking the dishes behind him as he rummages around, considering and rejecting a number of options. He’s sure he hid a packet of Girl Guide cookies in here somewhere, and he reaches right into the back corner looking for them. His hand closes around something else, though, and he pulls out — yes, another bottle of lube.

After the shower lube David went on a bit of a hunt and found two more bottles that same day, but then didn’t find a single one yesterday. Patrick has a maddening poker face when he wants to and none of David’s cajoling worked. He’s not sure if Patrick decided on cooking lessons to give him a bit of a hint, or if it’s just a nice coincidence. Either way he clears his throat and Patrick turns around, smirking when he sees what David is holding.

“Oooh, number four,” he says. “I’ve got to be honest, I thought that would be the first one you’d find.”

“Why, because you think I’m motivated solely by food?” And okay, it’s not like that’s entirely wrong, but still.

“Not solely,” Patrick says, and lets his eyes drop deliberately down to the front of David’s trousers. “Well, you know the rules — what are we doing with this one?”

David hums. “You know, I think I’m going to go and think about that while you do the dishes,” he says, and Patrick growls in response.

“I’m not sure where this newfound patience has come from David, and not that I don’t appreciate it in general, but it’s not really where I thought this game was going to go,” Patrick says, raising an eyebrow. “I thought there’d be more… pouncing.”

“Well if I pounce on you now,” he replies, not unreasonably, he thinks, “then I might also wind up having to do the dishes, and I’ve worked very hard on this cooking nonsense, you know.”

Patrick’s eyes soften. “I know you did, David. You did so, so well. I’m so proud,” and then he’s pulling David into another kiss. David responds for a few seconds, and then abruptly pulls away.

“Uh uh. I know what you’re doing, you manipulative shit. You know what those words do to me. Come and tell me how proud you are when the dishes are done,” and he saunters back into the living room, feeling Patrick’s eyes on him as he goes.

David’s pretty sure the dishes have never been done so quickly, but he lays on the couch and listens to the water sloshing around as Patrick hums to himself. When he hears the sink being drained he sits up and scoots to one end of the couch as Patrick appears in the doorway.

“Have you decided where you want me yet?” Patrick asks, and David gestures to the space next to him on the couch. Patrick sits down, and David — well, David  _ pounces. _ Swings a leg over so he’s settled on Patrick’s lap and kisses him messily, pressing him back into the couch cushions. Patrick moans into David’s mouth and pushes up into his hips, the sudden groin contact sending shivers down David’s spine.

“What’s the plan, David? You gonna ride me?”

“You should really stop trying to guess the plan. No, you wanted pouncing, pouncing is what you’re going to get.” He makes short work of Patrick’s fly, pulling out his cock and stroking it lightly as Patrick pushes up into his hand, searching for more contact. Getting his own trousers off is rather less dignified but he manages to get out of one leg at least, without getting off Patrick’s lap, and that will have to be good enough. He pours an over-generous amount of lube into his hand and strokes it over both his and Patrick’s cocks, one at a time and then together. Patrick looks down at their cocks rubbing together and groans.

“Just like that, honey,” David whispers. “Remember those early days at the store, just getting each other off as quickly and quietly as possible?” Patrick is nodding frantically, not tearing his eyes away from the way they are sliding together. “Just like that, baby. We’re going to sit here, and we’re going to hump each other like horny teenagers, and I’m going to watch you fall apart.” And with that he wraps one hand around both their dicks and fucks up into his fist.

It takes them a minute to find the right rhythm but soon they’re moving together, panting heavily. David presses their foreheads together and just  _ watches, _ seeing the way Patrick’s back arches as he searches for more, more, and the way his hand runs up and down David’s forearm, almost absent-mindedly. “I’m so proud of you,” Patrick is whispering. “So proud, I’m so proud.”

Patrick comes first, with a shout, and the sudden increase in wetness has David following him over the edge just a few moments later. He slides off Patrick’s lap and sprawls on the other half of the couch, one leg hanging off.

After a moment, Patrick turns to him. “I half-expect to hear the bell above the shop door start tinkling,” he says, grinning, and David throws his head back and laughs out loud.

* * *

**_Day 13_ **

David can’t find his rings.

Not the ones from Patrick, thankfully; both his engagement and wedding rings are always kept safe, in his bedside drawer if not on his hands. His silver ones, though, often go unworn for a few days at a time these days, and David can’t find them anywhere.

He’s… not  _ panicking, _ exactly, but his pulse is definitely starting to spike a little as he searches his drawers. With no luck, he decides to try Patrick’s things, and starts lifting things up at random. He picks up his baseball glove from the top of the dresser and, not seeing his rings, almost puts it straight down again when he realises that was is under it is not his rings, but instead another bottle of lube. Bottle number 12, to be exact. The halfway point.

_ Sneaky, _ David thinks, because why would he ever pick up Patrick’s glove? He’s almost to the door with the lube in his hand when he suddenly remembers the conversation they had the first night of lockdown. David had been in an anxiety spiral and Patrick had talked him down, sweet and tender — except for one sentence, which was less tender and more turned on. 

“I still think about you in that damn baseball uniform,” Patrick had growled, and David had promised to come back to that later. He’d forgotten about it by the morning, but he’s remembering now.

Grinning, he eases one of Patrick’s drawers open as quietly as possible. The first drawer doesn’t help him, but in the second drawer he finds Patrick’s baseball costume and he pulls the shirt out of the drawer. He quickly strips down to just his boxer briefs and pulls the shirt over his head. He grabs the glove and the lube and walks out into the living room.

Patrick is just walking out of the kitchen with a glass of water and thank God he’s through the door and onto the carpet, because it drops straight through his fingers when he sees David.

“Holy— you— fuck— I—” David has never seen Patrick so lost for words, and it is incredibly gratifying. He closes the gap between them and presses up against his husband, hips flush together, and he can feel just how  _ ridiculously _ hard Patrick is.

“I’m going to need you to bend me over that couch and fuck me,” he whispers in Patrick’s ear, and is rewarded by a gasp and then frantic nodding. Patrick backs him up until the backs of his knees hit the couch and then spins him around, folding him over the back. He’s kissing his way down David’s spine and he arches up into it.

When Patrick reaches the waistband of David’s underwear he doesn’t hesitate, pulling it down in one smooth motion. David steps out of it — they’ve made that mistake before — and so he’s distracted enough that it’s a surprise when Patrick runs his tongue around the edge of David’s hole. He moans low in his throat. He fucking loves Patrick rimming him but he wasn’t expecting it now, with the baseball thing driving Patrick completely crazy, and the surprise of it makes his dick twitch. Patrick bites into the globe of his ass, just lightly, and then he spreads David again, licking and tongue-fucking in earnest this time.

David’s panting, forehead resting on his arms as he tries not to buck his hips, and he whines when Patrick’s tongue is suddenly gone. He hears the click of the lube bottle and soon Patrick’s tongue is replaced by a finger lightly circling around his hole. He presses back into it and is rewarded by Patrick sliding a finger into him. He crooks a finger slightly before pulling it out, then sliding back in at a maddeningly slow pace. 

“More, please, fuck,” he whispers, and Patrick is nothing if not an obliging husband because not only does he add a second finger but he also picks up the pace. David swears, his hips moving back and forth of their own volition looking for more, more, more. 

“I’m so close, Patrick, please, please fuck me,” he moans. Instead of removing his fingers though, Patrick reaches his other hand around and wraps it around David’s cock.

He should have known. Because yes, Patrick loves fucking him (and being fucked by him) in basically all the ways they’ve tried over the years, but Patrick  _ especially _ loves fucking into him right after he’s come, when he’s all relaxed and boneless. David’s not totally sure how he’s going to be able to keep himself upright but he braces himself on his arms as Patrick tugs on his cock. He slides a third finger in and that’s it, David is coming all over the couch and the costume as he cries out.

He flops forward onto his arms and does his best to stop his legs shaking. Patrick’s got him, though, Patrick always has him, and the hand that was on his dick just a few seconds ago is now wrapped under his waist, taking his weight, holding him up. Then Patrick’s fingers are gone from inside him and he feels so empty, but it’s okay, he can feel Patrick’s cock pressed up against him and then he’s inside, fucking  _ finally. _

The hand that isn’t holding him up is now gripping his hip. It’s going to leave bruises, and the thought makes David feel all warm and tingly. Patrick’s rhythm is getting erratic and David knows he’s close; he wishes he had the energy to look over his shoulder but all he can do is say, “God, Patrick, I want you to come in me, I need it so bad,  _ please.” _ It’s the please that makes Patrick slam forward once more and sink his teeth into David’s shoulder as he comes.

When Patrick slides out of him David sinks to the floor. Patrick comes down with him, but a little more gracefully, and kisses David all over his face, his neck, behind his ears.

“Definitely going to wear the baseball costume again,” David says, content, and Patrick puts a hand over his face.

“It’s not a  _ costume, _ David, for fuck’s sake.” He looks over. “But… yes. Yes you will.”

* * *

**_Day 29_ **

David has found 23 bottles of lube, and the last one is driving him mad. Well, technically he found 22, and Patrick pulled one out of the couch for a morning fuck session, though he’s not sure whether that was because Patrick took pity on him or because he didn’t want to have to go and find one in the heat of the moment. Either way, David’s counting it.

It’s been three days since he found #23, and he’s pretty sure he’s torn the house apart. There is literally nowhere else in the house it could possibly be, and he finally has to admit defeat, lying in bed with his head on Patrick’s shoulder while Patrick reads a book.

“You sure you’re giving up?” Patrick asks, and David nods. “So by the rules of the game, I get to decide what we do with the last one then, right?”

David nods again. Patrick hums, placing his book down on his bedside table, then reaches into the drawer. And there, behind his phone charger, is the last bottle of lube.

“Okay, that is  _ not _ fair,” David opines. Patrick shrugs.

“You’re not banned from going in there. You could have found it any time you wanted to.”

David huffs, but mostly because he knows it’s true. “All right, fine. What are we doing with this one?”

“I want to watch you touch yourself.”

David can’t help the moan that escapes his lips. “God, okay, yes. And then what?”

Patrick grins. “And then nothing. I’m going to sit here, at the end of the bed, and you’re going to get naked, and you’re going to make yourself come.”

David flushes. It’s not like Patrick hasn’t seen him naked approximately 400 million times, and doing much more kinky things than jerking off, but the thought of being naked and the sole focus of Patrick’s attention is — a lot. Intense. But in the best possible way.

He strips quickly as Patrick shuffles down to the end of the bed, sitting back on his knees. David uncaps the bottle of lube and squeezes some out onto his hand before he stretches out, deliberately taking up a large part of Patrick’s side of the bed. He wraps his lubed-up hand around his cock and gives it a nice slow stroke from base to tip, covering it in lube.

From the end of the bed Patrick lets out a slight moan and David is reminded of their conversation a few weeks ago about patience. Suddenly determined to draw this out he lets go of his dick completely and instead reaches down to cup his balls, rolling them around a little in his hand. Patrick gasps and when David glances over, Patrick has his cock out and is stroking it slowly, eyes fixated on David’s hand.

He slides his hand back up to his dick and starts stroking himself, steady but slow. After a few strokes he stops and runs the tips of his fingers along the underside before he resumes stroking, twisting his hand just slightly as he raises his hips off the bed, fucking up into his fist. He repeats this over and over until he can hear the slap of skin against skin from Patrick and when he looks over Patrick is frantically jerking off, stroking much faster than David’s as he pants.

“I want you to come on me,” David says. It’s true, but it’s also a good way to get Patrick closer to him. “Come on honey, come on my chest, I love feeling it—” and Patrick is scooting across the bed without taking his hand off himself. David looks at him, gorgeous and sexy and so turned on just by watching David touch himself, and before he knows it he’s picked up his own pace to match. “God, Patrick, I’m so close, please come on me, I fucking love feeling your come on me,” and then Patrick comes with a strangled yelp, rope spurting across David’s chest and stomach. That feeling is all he needs and he cries out as he finally feels his release.

“Fuck,” Patrick whispers fervently, collapsed on the bed next to him. David can only hum in agreement. Patrick kisses him, soft and sure, before he hauls himself off the bed with what appears to be quite an effort to grab a washcloth for them both.

They’re tucked into bed and David is on the edge of sleep when Patrick says, “So, I guess I should hide them all again tomorrow?”

“You are going to be the death of me, Patrick Brewer-Rose,” he mutters, and then he’s asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


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